


The Family Drake Collection

by ArcherHybrid



Category: Uncharted (Video Games)
Genre: Drabble, F/F, F/M, Family, Gen, M/M, One Shot, Side Story
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-25
Updated: 2016-06-25
Packaged: 2018-07-18 03:06:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7296979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArcherHybrid/pseuds/ArcherHybrid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Individual one-shots and drabbles that feature the infamous Drake brothers...appearances from Sully and Rafe, too</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Family Drake Collection

**Author's Note:**

> This will be a collection of one-shots, twofers, and drabbles

Five year old Nathan tip-toed down the hallway to his brother’s bedroom. Once he got there, he pushed his little hand against the door and peeked his head inside; Samuel’s evened out breathing told him that his brother was still sleeping. This would simply not sit well with the child.

Nate pushed the door open further and stepped inside. He scurried to the side of Sam’s bed. When he folded his arms in front of himself, he starred at his sleeping brother with a look of disappointment. In his logical mind, he was awake, so Sam should be awake.

Nate poked at his brother’s arm; “Sammy…” and poked again. Nothing. He poked at his brother again, and again, and again, and called out his name. “Hey, Sammy…”

Sam groaned; “Go away, Nate…” He turned away from his younger brother, tugging his blanket over his whole body. And, needless to say, the older brother as surprised only seconds later when Nate had pulled himself onto the bed and yanked the blanket away from him; Sam coiled up his body into a fetal-like position, shivering from the sudden cold.

“Wake up, sleepy head!”

Sam muttered something not so nice beneath his breath – Nate’s brows twitched, and he scolded his brother for using foul language.

His eyes flickered open slowly. Once he got a gander at the LED screen of his alarm clock flashing at him, Sam griped and groaned once again; he was not a morning person, less so when he was being forcefully woken up; at least he didn’t have to worry about missing the bus – both he and his brother were homeschooled by their mother; their father was rarely home, or around.

Nate poked and prodded Sam again until he was met with a pillow to his face. The five year old tumbled backwards off the bed. When he let out an ear piercing wailing, Sam immediately shot up and looked over to where his brother had fallen; Nate had somehow smacked the back of his head against the wall. He was on his feet in seconds and by his brother’s side attempting to calm him down. Both of their parents were still sleeping, and he knew what would happen if they were woken up to Nate crying; they’d ask why the boy was crying so, and then Sam would get a few good whippings with daddy’s belt.

But just as Nate had turned on the waterworks before, they suddenly all dried up and he broke into a fit of laughter.

Sam looked bewildered; “Wha—?” That’s when he realized he had been duped by his own brother. His brows knit together before he proceeded to smack his brother with the second pillow.

The ten year old emitted a few choice words from his mouth, and Nate gave him a look of disapproval, before jumping to his feet and trotting off with laughter. Sam climbed to his feet and proceeded after his little brother; Nate had taken a sharp right out of Sam’s room but when Sam tried to follow, his brother had gone.

The ten year old Sam, still wearing his Iron Man pajamas, looked ‘round him furiously. It wasn’t too long after that that he begun to search the rooms one-by-one; he was careful to mind mommy and daddy’s room – they were always told never to go in there. And considering the scolding he got the last time, Sam didn’t feel like tempting fate this morning.

So he ventured down the hall to Nate’s room. Sam pushed the door open just a tiny crack to peek his head inside; it didn’t surprise him in the slightest the room was a cluster of mess; his brother was never the neatest of people – unlike him, who preferred a kept bedroom; Sam was a bit OCD when it came to things. He called out for his brother and when Nate didn’t answer – honestly, if he was hiding in his room somewhere, why would Sam even bother calling out thinking he’d answer? – then he took a single step in, and then a second.

One thing he also noted was how dark it was in the room. While Sam had an Iron Man night light on his nightstand, and plenty of other sources of light in his room – the glow from the fish tank, the blaring light from his alarm clock; he would never actually admit that being shrouded in darkness still terrified him – Nate, on the other hand, did not mind the dark at all. Sam found it difficult to navigate his brother’s room. So he tip-toed to the window and tugged at the blinds. The child then releases a breath he didn’t even know he was holding.

Sam suspected his brother might be hiding underneath the bed, so he dropped to his knees and took a peek. However, he saw not a soul. He feigned disappointment just before pulling himself to his feet. This is when he heard the slightest of noises coming from the closet. Grinning from damn near ear-to-ear, Sam’s bare feet padded across the beige carpet towards Nate’s closet. He yanked it open. He gave his brother a look similar to a child on his birthday receiving a gift; Nate gazed up at his brother with a wandering look, then shrieked happily, leapt to his feet, and took off running, and Sam gave chase.

Down the hall and around the corner they went, until they were in the living room, and then they were circling the couch. Sam ended up pursuing his brother around the glass coffee table. Nate wiggled up onto the L-shaped sectional and his five year old brain rationalized that he might be able to elude his brother by clambering over the edge; which, didn’t happen the way he thought; and Sam didn’t quite get to his brother in time.

Nate got his foot caught up between the couch cushions and instead of tumbling forwards face first over the edge, he tripped backwards right into the glass coffee table. The glass shattered and splintered off in every which direction. Sam was at his brother’s side almost instantaneously. As Nate sat up, he started to take in what had happened, but didn’t actually realize what was going on; he took note of the look on Sam’s face but didn’t quite grasp why he looked so horrified – until the child snuck a look at the blood seeping down his arms.

James Morgan was in the far back room with a cigarette hanging halfway out of his mouth when he heard the piercing screaming coming from the living room; sounded like it was coming from Nate, which meant Sam had something to do with it, which meant the belt was coming out. He was already pissed that he had just lit his cig.

The two boys were seated in the middle of a sea of glass when he found them; little Nate had his shirt off, and his eldest was cleaning the blood off Nate’s arms using a first aid kit he found in the hallway bathroom. James would have just about flown into a rage right there for his boys being so careless but there was the thing of Nate bleeding all over his carpet. Internally swearing – because his wife would absolutely lose her mind if he swore in front of the boys – he rushed back to the bathroom and snatched up the first towel he could grab, ran back into the living room, wrapped up his youngest in the towel, grabbed Sam’s hand, and snagged his keys from the key ring on the wall on his way out the door.

* * *

A dispirited Sam Drake stood by his father as the man filled out some paperwork handed to him by the receptionist. James made it quite obvious he was not at all interested in being here, and showed very little care towards the fact Nate was injured; at least in Sam’s eyes; it seemed more like a chore being here than out of genuine concern for his son. Whatever the case, he was able to fool the receptionist and nurses pretty well.

Sam could hear the cries of his little brother coming from down the hallway. He glanced back at daddy who seemed completely oblivious then pulled away from the man and took off wandering. He followed the cries until they grew louder, and louder. It damn near broke his heart to hear them. He was feeling so guilty for what happened. As the elder brother, it was his responsibility to make sure Nate was safe and well cared for; he wasn’t living up to his role as big brother.

When he poked his head inside the room where his brother was, Sam saw Nate sat up on the bed with nurses standing around him, each of them were either trying to keep the screaming child calm or attempting to clean him up so they might be able to get a better look at the cuts. With the amount of blood on their living room carpet, Sam assumed his brother’s arms were going to look absolutely horrid. It wouldn’t surprise him. That coffee table shattered into what looked like a good million pieces.

Nate just could not keep still; through his flailing, he saw his brother standing at the doorway; his cries sounded like a bleating lamb, “Sammy! Make em stop!” Tears pooled out of his eyes.

One of the nurses tried to soothe the boy’s tantrum, the other broke away from the bed for a moment and crouched in front of Sam; the ten year old was unusually short for his age. “Is that your brother there?” She asked sweetly.

Sam nodded; he determined he liked this one. “What are you gonna do to him?” He didn’t come off as tense, or as petrified as Nate did; he concluded that if his brother were to see him show fear, then Nate would still be scared. So Sam couldn’t be. He definitely was though.

“We’re going to get him cleaned and patched up,” the nurse tells him, then she asks, “Can you tell me what happened?”

Sam swallowed a large gulp of air; “Nate woke me up to play, and I was mad at him at first, but then I started to play, and we chased each other through the house, and then he climbed on the couch, and he tried to jump over the back, but he tripped and fell through the glass coffee table instead, and—“ Remembering to breath, he exhaled the buildup in his lungs.

The nurse flashed a warm smile; she had two little boys of her own, and she knew how rough they were with each other when they played – this was nothing new to her. “Alright, thank you. And what is your name?”

“Samuel Morgan. I go by Sam. My brother’s name is Nathan but he goes by Nate.”

“Well, Sam, my name is Judith but I go by Judy. Now, why don’t we get you seated over there in the corner- “ she pointed to the beige cushioned chair by the window, “ –while we tend to your brother okay? I promise we’ll take good care of him.”

Sam shook his head. “He’s scared. He needs me.” When his brother started screaming as pieces of broken glass were being pulled from his arms, Sam stepped away from Nurse Judy then pulled himself onto the bed before either of the other nurses could stop.

Nate’s bottom lip was quivering. “Tell em ta stop, Sammy. I don’t like this game no more…”

“They’re gonna make you feel better again, Nate,” he said in a soothing tone, “So you gotta be brave and let them help you okay? I’ll give you my ice cream okay? The chocolate raspberry one daddy bought me. You can have it. But you gotta do me a favor and you gotta be nice to them while they fix you okay?”

Sam wiggled his whole self behind his brother; he tried to come up with a way to keep Nate calmed so he could be tended to, and eventually settled on a day when their mother took them to the park – Sam was only seven at the time, and Nate two. She had bought the boys ice cream. But Nate was still a very clumsy toddler, and he ended up dropping his ice cream on the sidewalk. He started wailing, and screaming, and Sam’s ears hurt. To pacify the toddler, Sam gave him his own ice cream cone.

This appeared to have worked; Nate calmed enough to where the nurses could get his arms cleaned up and bandaged – the blood betrayed the actual injuries; Nate hadn’t suffered as many cuts – or even real deep ones – like Sam assumed. He got a good look at himself, and sniffled, but he was feeling better and far less scared.

“Sammy?” Nate asked with baited breath.

“Hm? Yeah Nate?”

“Can I have some ice cream?”


End file.
